In 7-eleven the slurpee machine
drips electric blue
there are wet hot dogs rolling
on a silver machine
the actress on the cover of a magazine
cheated on her boyfriend
with the married director
kissed him in an abandoned lot
like poor teenagers covered in dust
someone was there and took pictures
she had to apologize to the nation
I'm sorry too
America for the times I've let you down
kissed what wasn't mine
the late afternoon light
pouring from the brim of my baseball cap
and then down my back like bathwater
the actress in the magazine
is sitting on the hood of a car
thinking thoughts only she thinks
she has seen her own moments
from afar
a bright page
in a bright place
with wet hot dogs
rolling on a silver machine
where we all go
once in a while
to take the blue into our bodies
the impossible human blue
that turns our mouths to sky
that turns our mouths to pools
a blue that bruises our lips
into smiling